The story of January 30th
by MoonstruckIam
Summary: Dean Winchester and Castiel Milton have been best friends for as long as they can remember, but this memory is now one-sided. Dealing with the grief over his supposed loss, Castiel finds himself on a journey of self preservation and the will to go on without the only person who'd ever been there for him. Maybe Dean could learn a thing or two along the way, maybe even a little more
1. NOTE

THIS IS THE SEQUEL TO THE STORY OF A PROFOUND BOND


	2. Prologue: Just South Of Here

Five years later

Castiel Milton rolled down the window of the Impala. He spent a lot more time with Bobby Singer these days after the old man repaired Dean's beloved car, and John let Cas have it because they all knew that Dean would want him to. Not that Dean knew it was his car, because it was going to be his graduation present, but he never graduated, so John gave it to Castiel, because Sam didn't give a crap about the old car, and John wanted to pass it on to one of his sons, and Cas was pretty much part of the family. So all in all, it was a winning situation, except for the part where Dean wasn't here to have the car. When Cas pulled up in front of Heaven, he put the Impala in park, stomped down on the emergency break and rolled up his window before taking the keys out of the ignition. When he strolled across the parking lot and towards the back of the coffee shop, he caught a glimpse of himself in one of the windows on his way around back. At age twenty-one, Castiel looked what he liked to think of as being considerably attractive. His shaggy black hair was a bit longer then it was only yesterday. His saggy teal sweater with the words "Neon Trees" on it was spotless but smelled like cigarette smoke, and his tight black skinny jeans clang to his well built legs in just the right way.

He rubbed a hand over his jawline, feeling the permanent five o' clock shadow there. He'd quite drinking and doing drugs the moment he realized that Dean wasn't going to be in his life anymore. He hadn't been able to quit smoking, though. As soon as he entered Heaven, his coworker and friend Cassie from his childhood looked up from baking cookies and smiled brightly at him.

"Good morning, Cas!"

"Morning, Cassie."

They hugged as they always did. One good thing about staying in your hometown through adulthood was that pretty much everyone knew you, that is if they were locals as well. Here in Lawrence, there wasn't a soul who hadn't heard the name Castiel Milton before. Cassie took to treating Castiel like a king after he lost Dean. He would never forget January 30th, because it was not only the day he lost the love of his life, but it was also the day he changed himself completely. At first he was a broken mess and went through the worst bout of depression he'd ever gone through, and that was saying something. But then he realized that if Dean could speak right then, he'd a telling him to get off of his ass and go down swinging, so that's just what he did.

Castiel worked behind the counter and served coffee and cakes to customers while Cassie worked in the back, baking. Heaven mainly served only fresh baked goods, with some occasional frozen cherry turnovers or something that the delivery trucks brought over. The first thing Cas did was quit his job at the Roadhouse officially, because that place contained too many memories for him to handle. One of the daily customers here were two weirdos named Ed and Harry. Castiel did not like them at all, because they were so obviously druggies, and he himself used to be just like them, only they were adults not teenagers, so essentially they portrayed themselves as lowlifes. Despite that Cas learned how to put on a friendly smile whenever they came to the counter to order, like now.

"What can I get you?"

Ed and Harry scanned the menu above the blue-eyed man's head, and Harry spoke up.

"One of Heaven's Best, please."

Heaven's Best was a Blondie made by the owner of the coffee shop, Rufus Turner. In Castiel's opinion, it was not the best cake they had to offer, but apparently Rufus was a narcissist, so whatever.

"Okay. And anything for you, Ed?" Said Cas, trying to keep his tone professional and not agitated like he actually was. Despite the fact that he'd been on anti-Psychotics and anti-depressant/anti-anxiety medication for years now, he still had a deep routed hate for mankind. He was told by his therapist, Cara Roberts, that some Psychotics actually get cured, but that it was unlikely in his case because he'd gone sixteen years without treatment before the problem was finally addressed. He was okay with this because honestly, he wouldn't know how to live in everyone else's world. He was perfectly comfortable in his, as elusive and hard to navigate as it was.

"I'll have the same, thanks."

Ed's response snapped Castiel out of his train of thought, and he nodded and forced yet another smile. "Alright, then. Want any coffee with that?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "I'll have a Caramel frappichino."

"And I'll have a mocha."

"Coming right up."

After getting their coffees ready, Castiel slid them across the brown marbled counter top and Ed and Harry payed the required amount of money before taking a seat towards the back of Heaven. They were hunched over their laptops, and Cas caught a word here and there about 'Ghost Facers'. Well, whatever those freaks did in their spare time was certainly none of his business. He knew that they had a web series as sometimes he let them and their friends film it here to earn customer points, but he had no idea what the show was about, and he did not bother to ask. On his lunch break, he and Cassie stood out back, Castiel leaning against the dirty brick wall and smoking, and Cassie sitting on one of the two steps leading to the door.

"So... when's the last time you got laid?" Asked the dark skinned girl as she played with her ipad.

"Five years." Castiel responded passively. "And you?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Cas, honestly! Dean's not gonna get you off anymore than I will, man."

Cassie, as it turns out, was a total dyke. Which made the two of them even closer somehow, because Castiel was a total gay Lord.

"Let's not talk about Dean, okay?"

"But-"

"Cassie." He snapped.

Cassie sighed and said, "I'm sorry."

Castiel took a seat beside her and rubbed soothing circles over her back. "It's okay, honey. It's not your fault I'm still not strong enough to move on from him."

Castiel Milton lived in a crappy apartment, but the way he saw it, if rent was cheap (which it was) then it was a victory. He had one bathroom and one bedroom, a tiny kitchen with a leaking sink and a living room where he ate his meals because he didn't have a dining room. Cassie had offered more than once for him to stay with her and they'd split the rent, but Castiel declined because he valued his independence more than good hygiene conditions, obviously. It's just the way he was. After showering that evening around five o' clock, Cas changed into his old Tegan and Sara sweater from his high school days. Dean always loved that sweater. He could still smell his lover on the black fabric, because Dean seemed to snuggle him more if he was wearing some fluffy sweater or another. Despite the fact that it was at least seventy degrees out on this August evening, he wore sweaters often to hide the scars on his wrists from when he was sixteen years old and miserable as fuck.

The sweater he was wearing now was a little small as he'd grown over the past five years, but it still fit well enough. After locking up, he headed out of the apartment complex and into the parking lot. He decided to walk to Alphie's Music instead of driving. Castiel and the owner of Alphie's Music were close these days, and he allowed Cas to teach private lessons there because Castiel knew how to play the piano extremely well after only five years of lessons from Mr. Alphie himself. Castiel took to making music like his second job, and every evening after working at Heaven he'd come here and work for Alphie. The pay wasn't all that great because he didn't get paid by Alphie, but instead by his students or their parents. He took in people of all ages, and each lesson was a half an hour and it costed twenty dollars. Cas took to writing music awhile ago, and he worked on one piece in particular that he kept remaking because for some reason, he was never satisfied with it. It was a song he and Dean made a very long time ago, and he felt like maybe he was treading on the soft banks near a river, and that perhaps the ground could give at any moment... so he struggled. He was able to write plenty of other songs without much effort, though. The room where he gave his lessons in was cozy but too small to fit the wooden piano in there, though somehow he had.

His student today was a young Hispanic girl who had a natural talent for the piano, just as he did. He quite liked teaching her because she caught on to things so easily and played like she had been for years, though she'd started only a month ago. When the twilight gave way to complete darkness, Castiel Milton walked back to his crappy apartment, and on the way he thought about visiting Dean at the hospital. He hadn't gone in months, as he'd given up hope that he'd ever wake up. According to the doctors, he was brain dead, and the only thing keeping him alive at this point was a plug in the wall. What hurt more than actually having Dean dead was having him there, so close yet so damn far away. In the end, he decided against going to visit the love of his life. Dean was his one and only, and always would be.

When he got back to his apartment on the fourth floor, (number 405) his azure eyes automatically scanned all the pictures on the walls. They were pictures of him and Dean.

"I'm your home, remember? I'm here to stay."

Feeling unshed tears in his eyes, Cas quickly distracted himself by writing on his laptop. He often wrote short stories and poems, because he discovered he had a natural knack for the art of creative writing. He learned this when he finished a little story about himself in his notebook long ago. He had meant to write a poem about the good things in life, but he found that the poem turned out to be rather depressing, but he published it on the poetry website anyway.

Nothing good can last forever

It's truly as simple as that.

I dream of a time when we were together,

Talk of the future with you and growing old and getting fat.

Though you lie just South of here,

You might as well be gone.

But forever your love I will hold my dear,

Until one day again we sing that song.

-Just South Of Here-Castiel Milton

The problem with falling in love was that it always resulted in pain. Dean Winchester was Castiel's first and last love, because he never wanted to go through that hurt again. Not to mention, he still was not over Dean, and he assumed he never would be, but he was okay with that. So he never went to college, nor did the love of his life because he ended up in a coma on graduation day. So he didn't get his driver's license until he was seventeen years old. So he worked two odd and out-of-the-box jobs. So he lived in a crappy apartment complex and his only friend at the moment was one from his childhood who he'd met in a psychiatric ward. So he hadn't filled out enough to not be able to wear the clothes he did in high school, but Castiel Milton liked to think that a simple life was a humble one. Besides, no great inventor was born and raised in Lawrence, Kansas, so what did it matter if he lead a calm life out in the country?

Castiel had an appointment with Dr. Cara Roberts every Thursday at eight o' clock in the evening. Cara (as she let him call her) had a nice spacious office that was furnished just enough to make it cozy. The walls were a pea green that would usually make someone vomit, but that was somehow oddly appealing and went well with the interior decor. Cara sat in one of the two large leather chairs towards the center of the room, and Cas sat in the other across from her. She had a notebook and paper, and she greeted Castiel with a warm smile and a 'hello'.

"So tonight I'd like to start off with how your day went."

Castiel shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

"A little more detail, please?" Said Cara, a small smile playing across her lips.

Cas sighed. "Well, I had a normal day at work and a normal day at Alphie's Music, so yeah, my day was okay."

Cara frowned at the note of bitterness she detected there.

"Castiel, you wanna tell me what's bothering you?"

The twenty-one year old shifted in his seat. "Nothing really."

"It's not nothing. I'm here to talk to, you know. That's what you're paying for."

"I'm not; my insurance is."

Cara leaned forward in her chair. "Castiel... please."

Cas rolled his deep blue eyes. "Look, I know I shouldn't expect it, but I was kinda hoping that my depression would lift off completely."

"Well, your doing much better, right?"

Cas shrugged again. "Yeah. I mean, I don't want to kill myself right now, it's just... I dunno."

Now it was Cara's turn to sigh. "You're on 200 Milligrams of the stuff. That's the maximum limit you can give a patient with this particular prescription. "

"Well then why don't I switch medications?"

Cara rolled her eyes. "That wouldn't be very wise."

"Why not?"

"Because in order to do that you'd have to go cold turkey to get the Prozac out of your system to get your new prescription fast enough, and I don't want you running around in the world not being fully medicated, even if only for a short time."

Castiel slouched down in his seat and let out a frustrated groan.

"Or," added Cara. "We could take you off of Prozac little by little just so that you can switch because of the addictive properties, but I'm not gonna lie, it's a long drawn out process."

Castiel shook his head. "Okay, never mind."

Cara laughed. "Alrighty, then."

After that, the two talked about various different things, but Cas went home after forty-five minutes feeling no better. It seemed like even though he'd learned to smile and laugh for the most part, any little negative thing that happened knocked him down eight pegs at a time, and he felt like he was suffocating and not making any progress in his recovery. That night, he slept atop his covers on his back with his pillow over his face as he cried himself to sleep.

The next morning, there were two new messages on his cellphone. The first one he checked was from Mary Winchester. John and his wife had moved to New York about two years ago, selling the house their kids had grown up in. Sam was living with his girlfriend who was named Jessica Moore as he prepped for college. Cas was glad that Sam dumped Ruby a long time ago. Mary Winchester had simply called to ask how he was doing, as they hadn't talked in awhile. She offered to come down for the holidays, and Castiel called her back and told her that that was a great idea. He missed her. She was always like his real mother, and Rachel (who still lived in Lawrence, too) was just his biological one. The second message was from St. Andrew's hospital. When he played the voicemail, a voice he recognized as Carmen's (a nurse who often tended to Dean) spoke in a rushed voice.

"Hello, Castiel Milton? This is Carmen from St Andrew's hospital, and I'm calling regarding the patient Dean Winchester. I thought you might like to know that he woke up at approximately eleven-twenty. Before you get to exited, there seems to be a bit of a catch."

Dean woke up last night. The realization hit him, making Castiel's throat dry and his heart race. So much for anti-anxiety medication.

All he could hear was the sound of his heart beat. Thump, thump, thump. He could feel his pulse all the way up his neck and down his back. He passed nurses down the white corridors of St. Andrew's, some nodded in his direction and others smiled broadly at him, but he couldn't process them at all. His mind was stuck on one topic: Dean Winchester. When he stood on this side of the sterile door, he took a deep, shuddering breath and then released it slowly before turning the handle on the door and pushing forward gently. It had been awhile since he'd been in this hospital room, but the walls were still an annoying peach color and the floors were still an ugly off-white. There, behind a half drawn curtain was the love of his life. His hair had grown rather long, and his face had aged a few years from the last time those pretty green eyes were open. Five years, to be exact. Five years that had made Castiel Milton question why he'd ever bothered to love someone as deeply as he loved Dean.

When a tired but beautiful freckled face turned away from the window on the far side of the room, Cas' breath caught in his throat and he stilled in the doorway. Dean locked his gaze onto Castiel's, and Cas swallowed as he stepped inside and shut the door behind himself. Finally. He thought, and suddenly all the dread and anxiety and doubts left his mind as his eternally broken heart began to sore in his chest, but not in the unpleasant way. Just the opposite. In this moment, it was just him and Dean again. No one else mattered but them. They were like the sun, and everyone else just revolved around the two. Cas thought back to when he could press his lips against Dean's. Back to when he could hear him laugh and make fun of Castiel for not being able to tie his shoes. As it was now, Cas was wearing sneakers with Velcro straps because he never did learn how, probably do to the fact that Dean had always been there to tie them for him. He knows now that he should have never relied on someone so entirely, but he had let himself believe Dean's words.

"I'm yours, Cas. Forever and always."

He was snapped out of his trance when he felt a single tear trickle down his pale cheek. He knew he could never make that mistake again. It was wrong to trust someone the way he trusted Dean, and he wouldn't do it again.

"Hello."

Castiel's azure eyes snapped up to meet green ones, and he saw that Dean was hesitantly smiling at him. Cas' lips trembled, and a strangled sob escaped him as he said, "Dean."

Dean nodded. "That's me. So what are you-"

He was cut off by Castiel practically leaping across the room and wrapping his arms around Dean, kissing his head over and over again.

"Oh, God, Dean... I... I've waited so long for this moment."

Dean clumsily returned the gesture, patting the man on his back. "Uh, yeah, me too?"

"The doctors said you were brain dead." Whispered Castiel as he pulled back, only to cup Dean's face in his hands.

"Y-yeah, I guess I was. Um, do you think you could... keep your hands to yourself?"

Castiel looked taken aback, and Dean almost felt sorry for the guy. Stepping back an letting his hold on Dean go, the blue-eyed man said, "What's wrong, Dean?"

Dean fiddled with his hospital gown and he forced a smile. "Nothing, I just... the doctors told me that you were the guy who would take me home because I knew you the best and you signed all the papers and stuff, and my little brother's too busy getting ready for college, but I'm kinda nervous and freaked out cause I really got no clue who you are." The twenty-two year old chuckled, but Castiel's face fell and his whole world seemed to shatter, and he landed on the ground, gasping.

"Holy shit!" Said Dean, because honestly, it looked like the guy was having a stroke or something. He then pressed the red button on the remote connected to his bed, and when someone answered he told them that the person who would take him home was currently freaking the fuck out. Carmen came in a second later and rushed to Castiel's side.

"What's wrong?" She asked Cas.

"Panic...attack..." He managed.

Dean resisted the urge to throw up in sympathy when he saw the dude's eyeballs roll up into his head repeatedly.

"Dammit!" Shouted Carmen. "Just breath. Fuck. I told you there was a catch. Why the hell didn't you wait for me?"

Outside of Dean's room after Castiel had calmed down, he and Carmen talked about Dean's condition. Apparently, Dean was suffering from extreme amnesia, and they weren't sure when his memory would come back, if at all. He didn't even remember who his own parents were, only Sam and himself. Figures. After Castiel's miniature breakdown, he assumed that he'd still be crippled with all these emotions running through his head, but quite the opposite happened. He found an inner strength that he hadn't known was buried down there. Dean always took care of him when they were kids, and the least Cas could do was return the favor. Dean didn't throw a bitch fit when he had to put up with a mentally disabled whack job for sixteen years, now did he? No more tears. He was going to take Dean in and swallow his feelings and help his best friend and lover. End of story.

On the first day Dean Winchester moved in with Castiel Milton, Cas called Mary and told her everything, or at least what the hospital hadn't already told her. She was completely crushed that Dean didn't remember his own parents, much less his best friend and true love. She wanted to come visit him ASAP, but Castiel told her that she should just visit on the holidays like they'd agreed because the last thing Dean needed right now was more strangers. Reluctantly, she had agreed, but only because it was for her son's sake. Dean seemed surprised that Cas knew to bring home pie after work that evening. He told Alphie that he was going to have to take a leave of absence for a little bit to make sure his best friend was alright, but he couldn't afford to delay his job at Heaven.

"Dude, this pie fucking rocks!" Said Dean enthusiastically as he took a fork to the apple pie in its tinfoil container. Castiel chuckled as he sat next to him on the sofa in the living room, and they watched Family Guy in silence for a bi until Dean asked, "You have panic attacks, huh?"

He sounded casual, and that made Cas comfortable instantly, and a feeling of the old Dean came into being. This is the same Dean. He chided himself, but honestly, he just couldn't believe that.

"Yeah... I've had them practically my whole life."

"Wow, that sucks man." Said Dean, not moving his gaze from the small TV screen.

"Yeah. So what do you remember?"

Dean stilled, clearly nervous. He cleared his throat an then replied. "Well, uh... I remember Sammy, and I have vague little flashes of someone who I think's my mom. Blonde hair, gentle smile-" Cas nodded to confirm that this was true "-But I don't actually remember her remember her, I just.. I dunno. And I really don't remember my dad, but I remember this town, who I am, and yeah... that's about it."

After a moment, Castiel asked quietly, "And me?"

Dean sighed. "I'm sorry, man. I really don't remember you."

Cas nodded solemnly. "It's okay, Dean." He assured him with a kind smile. "I remember you."

"Were we like... close?"

Castiel took the fork from Dean's hand and ate a piece of apple pie, and yeah, that was kinda weird for a guy to do to another guy, but Dean didn't comment on it.

"Nah." Cas shrugged. "We were just pals."

We were best friends and lovers. We slept together and even had sex. I practically lived in your house, and when I wasn't, you were living in mine. We knew each other since you were one years old, and we grew up walking to school every morning, taking the same route and claiming it as ours. We did everything together, from crying to bathing, we were joined at the hip, as everyone around town was fond of saying. Neither of us knew ow to live without the other, and now that I finally am, I don't know how or why I'm still alive.

"Oh, that's good." Dean smiled hesitantly, and Castiel forced a smile right back.

"Why's that?"

"Well, you know, it would be kinda awkward if I forgot my best friend forever or some shit." He laughed then, and Cas just sadly smiled and agreed.

"Yeah. Imagine that."

One week after Dean's arrival, Castiel cut his hair. He explained to Dean that he always wore it short, so Dean agreed. Dean suspected that he and Castiel had been closer than the azure eyed man let on. Why was he protecting him? The morning after his haircut, there was a knock on the door. Dean slept out on the sofa, but luckily it was comfortable and big, so he couldn't complain. The early morning light bathed him in a butter color as he opened his eyes and sat up. Another knock rang through the apartment. He rose from the couch and made his way over to the front door in his boxers and one o Castiel's too-small T-shirts. When he looked through the peephole, he saw a ragged old guy standing there with a dirty baseball cap and too much plaid, even for his own taste. He stepped back and answered the door.

"Hello, who-"

He was cut off when arms were wrapped around him, hugging him close with a passion.

"Um..."

"It's good to see you, boy." Said the old man, now giving Dean some space.

Dean scratched the back of his head. "Uh, yeah... who are you?"

"Bobby Singer." Bobby replied nonchalantly. "Cas filled me in on the deal. I guess you must be confused as to who I am, huh?"

"A little bit, yeah." Dean chuckled.

"Well, I'm like your uncle. Me and you and your whole family go way back, but I'm not technically related." Explained the old man.

Bobby Singer stayed until lunch, and they all talked and pretty much got to know each other again. Dean quite liked the old man, and he regretted not being able to remember him at all. It was such a feeling of hopelessness not to remember the people so close to you. Dean's moss green eyes settled on Castiel Milton. What exactly was I to you? He wondered.


	3. Stage One: Enigma

Fifteen years ago, Lawrence, Kansas

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are grey

You'll never no dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away

-You are my sunshine

Castiel Milton clapped his hands together excitedly the way Dean always saw him doing. Today was the younger boy's sixth birthday, and Dean Winchester was utterly impassive. Seriously, what was so great about birthday parties anyway? And since when did Cas get exited? Well, at least he looked happy, and that was a sight he truly enjoyed. He heard Rachel Milton playing Happy Birthday on the piano in the other room, and over the fire of the birthday candles Dean and Castiel locked gazes.

"Happy birthday, Cas." Said the older boy lowly.

Castiel smiled softly. It was one of those secret smiles they often shared, and Dean wondered if it was common for most friends to do this. Probably not. If you were friends with Castiel, then the friendship was bound to be a mutual entanglement of odd.

"Make a wish."

Cas closed his azure eyes and seemed to think for a moment before puffing out a whistle of warm breath to blow out the candles on his chocolate cake. Michael smiled and handed his son the cake cutter, and the six year old got to work, though the job was clumsy. Castiel's grandparents were here, and Naomi gave Dean the creeps, though he wasn't quite sure why. After this party, he and his best friend were going to Cas' grandparents' house for a few weeks. Castiel was going because he wanted to spend more time with them, and Dean was going because Cas had begged his parents to let him.

"What did you wish for?" Wondered the green-eyed boy as his dark haired friend handed him a paper plate with cake on it.

Grabbing his own, Castiel led Dean away from the crowd of grownups discussing boring grownup things. The two wandered out into the hall and then to the front door where they stepped outside into the twilight on Castiel's front porch, passing Gabriel on the way.

"If I tell you, the wish won't be granted."

Dean messed up Cas' hair playfully, and the younger one swatted his hand away. From inside, they could hear Sam start to cry in his crib. Dean rolled his eyes.

"That kid."

Castiel knew that despite Dean's hard exterior even at his young age, he was full of affection for those who he considered family.

"I bet he'll still be peeing himself at twenty." Continued Dean.

Castiel sighed. "He's only three, Dean."

"Yeah, and he's still in a crib!" Squeaked the seven year old, his small voice piercing.

"So what? I still drank from my mommy when I was five."

Dean's jaw clipped shut.

Watching Castiel run around in the fields beside Main Street here near Naomi's house filled Dean with a strange sense of melancholy. He was playing with his imaginary frogs again, those of which Dean could not see. He'd once asked Cas, "You do know they're not real, right?" And Castiel's reply had been, "They are in my world." Whatever that meant, the older did not know, but Castiel's timeless wisdom was just. Like all imaginary friends, the host can see them, and others cannot. Put that way, the six year old's logic was simple. Sometimes Dean failed to understand his friend. His IQ was off the charts at his age, though he didn't understand meager things like 2 + 2. He was a genius, but only in the manner that Einstein was. The dude had to be reminded to eat, and so did Castiel often, and the two were like they had been linked in some way. It was weird, to say the least.

"Pragmatic, stop crawling into my ear!" Exclaimed Cas, breaking Dean out of his reverie.

From what Cas had told him, Pragmatic was his red imaginary frog, and he was annoying and did strange things that unnerved the boy. Dean had suggested he just stop imagining Pragmatic, but Cas said he couldn't because he had no control over his own mind. Castiel was like a frightening but alluring child, and Dean loved every bit of him with his whole soul. He watched as Cas reached into his ear and (supposedly) brought Pragmatic out and flicked him away with his other hand.

"Jerk!" He called after Pragmatic.

Dean chuckled, walking across the tall grass of the meadow and towards his best friend. Once he reached him, Cas grabbed the older boy's hands in his and they spun around together like two little girls, and Dean felt a hot flush of embarrassment run through him.

"Cas-" he tried, but the blue-eyed boy was laughing hysterically, and Dean just couldn't bring himself to disrupt his happiness. Dean began to laugh along.

"Oh, Pragmatic's running away-he's gonna get lost!" Said Cas, coming to a halt. Dean followed his gaze to the far side of the field where a cluster of trees were formed.

"Cas, he's not-" but Castiel was running in that direction, and Dean sighed and followed.

He watched his friend's back disappear into the coven of trees about twenty feet away. When Dean finally reached the woods, he ventured in a bit before calling out for his buddy. There was no answer, and when Dean entered a small clearing, he saw Castiel there, the afternoon light shining down on him through the trees creating the illusion of something ethereal... something alien. He held his palms out in front of him as though Pragmatic was really in his hands, and Dean felt a small smile creeping under his nose. He watched as Castiel spun around with his imaginary frog in hand, laughing and tossing the unseen creature into the air and then catching it again. At times like this, Dean felt closer to the boy. He felt as though he might even include himself. Cas was nearly impossible to understand; to get to know, yet Dean was given this privilege, and he intended to use it right. He ran forward and called out, "Pragmatic slipped out of your hands!"

Castiel looked down and his azure eyes widened comically.

"Bad froggy!" He chided, bending down to pick him up. But apparently the red frog got away, because the younger one went chasing after the invisible Pragmatic, and Dean gladly followed.

It's not that Dean didn't like her, but Naomi just made shivers run down his spine. Same with Castiel's dad, Michael. What was it about his family that just seemed so... different? Dean wasn't paying much attention as Castiel recited all the countries and their capitals of the entire world. Instead, he watched as Naomi removed the cookie from the oven. It was one big cookie that covered almost the entire cooking pan, and she set it on the oven to let it cool on it's wax paper before she began to slice smaller squares from it.

"You're a genius!" Exclaimed Naomi.

Michael had been the one to teach Castiel all the countries and capitals of the world, using a book on the subject as a reference, because he himself didn't know until he taught his son. Michael didn't often pay attention to his kids, much to Rachel's dismay.

"I'm not a genius. Daddy had to connect images to the countries and capitals in order for me to obtain such information."

Naomi looked at the older of the two pointedly. "See? Who at his age talks like that."

Good point. Thought Dean. Cas was truly one in a million. He did indeed learn in a different way, though. He had to be taught math with Cheroes as numbers or something, and Dean could only imagine how stressful that must have been. Visual learning was almost impossible to receive in public schools, because it required one-on-one time, and that was highly unlikely. Needless to say, his parents had to teach him a lot of things on their own.

"Wanna hear me speak Greek?"

That had been Rachel's doing. She herself knew quite a bit of the language.

"Cas, you're boring!" Groaned Dean, and Naomi smiled at the two of them as she put the cookies on a plate with a spatula in the middle of the kitchen table. Castiel clapped his hands together at the sight of cookies. Dean smiled. It was so endearing that Cas loved sweet things so much. Later he would discover that Cas was drawn to spicy or sweet foods because they had a very strong texture, and he tasted in a completely different way than everyone else. He had likes and dislikes, but only because he could discern ingredients, and he did indeed develop a preference.

"Now only a few because it's getting late and i don't want you to spoil your appetite for supper." Warned Naomi, her voice gentle but firm. But Castiel was already digging in, a huge grin on his face, his blue eyes lit up. It was nearly impossible to get the six year old to eat anything. He never ate his breakfast unless it was something sweet, he never ate his lunch unless it was something sweet like a PP&J, and he never, ever ate his dinner because well, it wasn't sweet. If it was spicy, he might go for it. Seeing him eat seemed to please Naomi, so she smiled and let him be.

"I'll be sowing in the other room." She said, and then she disappeared around the corner.

As soon as she was gone, Castiel brought out a Dean Koontz novel from under the table. He had to hide it because Naomi didn't allow him to read at the table, even if it was just a snack, and they weren't even at the dinning room table. Dean couldn't read at the level Cas could, though he would later discover that Cas read differently than other people, as well. He could only read word by word broken down into images in his mind so as to comprehend what he was seeing. Still, he read at an amazing level for his age. It was adult fiction he was into, and nothing else. Perhaps it was the very disability that didn't let him learn right that made him so smart, because he had to work twice as hard at something, therefore earning better results. Again, the child was an enigma, a complete alien thing to Dean, and even Castiel's own family. One might think they knew how Cas' brain worked, and the other would argue that they knew him better, but none of them knew Cas the way Dean did, despite that they were related to the six year old.

Later in his life, Dean would question why he was given this special person. Castiel was so precious and so unique, and Dean was able to know such a thing by heart. Why? What did he ever do to deserve this gift? Though of course, he was not complaining. He decided there at the kitchen table in Utah, that he would protect his best friend for the rest of their lives.


	4. Stage Two: I Pray The Lord

Do you remember I searched you out?

How I climbed your cities' walls?

Do you remember me as devout?

How I prayed for your calls?

I-stood-still, it's what I did

Love-like-ours just never fits

I stuck around

I did behave

I saved you every time

I was a fool for love

I was a fool for love

I was a fool

I was a fool

-I was a fool by Tegan and Sara

Castiel fixed his black tie in the bathroom mirror. He was going off to Alphie's Music another week later, after he was positive that Dean was okay. He gave himself a quick once over, and nearly laughed at his strange sense of style. He was wearing a long, saggy green sweater and tight blue jeans, a Celtic rosary folded into his brown leather belt. He had on leather, heelless boots and two crosses around his neck. One was dark blue and very rusted and it hung from a slight silver chain, and the other overlapped it as it was bigger, a black shield with a silver cross in the middle. He looked... well, for lack of a better word: Psychotic. His tie was completely out of place, but whatever. After he emerged from the bathroom, he called out, "I'm going to work now, Dean!"

When he left his bedroom, he saw Dean sitting on the couch going through some boxes. Castiel felt his heart drop.

"What are you doing?" He bit out before he had a chance to stop himself. Dean looked up from the small box he had been rummaging through. "Cas?" Cas. Castiel rushed over and violently ripped the box from Dean's hands.

"This stuff is personal, Dean." He hissed.

Dean looked more annoyed then hurt or shocked, and he sighed. "Look, I'm sorry man. I was just wondering why you hadn't unpacked all of your stuff and I was only trying to help."

Castiel's face softened and now it was his turn to sigh. He looked to the windows, watching as the light of the day gradually faded. "I know. I'm sorry."

Dean stared at him for a moment. This man was a complete stranger to him, but somehow... he was perfectly comfortable around Castiel. Dean guessed this meant that they had been close before, after all, but he wasn't going to push it since the guy seemed so reluctant to elaborate. He was obviously hurt by Dean's amnesia, and it showed every moment of every day they'd spent together so far. Who the fuck were they together? Dean's brain itched to know, but he held back. If he didn't remember, it didn't matter. That simple.

"Nah, man. I'm sorry. I shouldn't go through a stranger's stuff. That's just rude."

A stranger.

"Indeed." Agreed the twenty-one year old, his deep voice icy. Despite his previous vow to look after Dean and just forget about his own hurt and desire for once, he felt a trickle of anger and woe drip down his spine like sweat. Fuck! He wanted to scream, but he bit his tongue... literally. He tasted blood after awhile, and he noticed his former lover staring at him like he was crazy. Dean had never done that before. Not once, and here he was, acting like he didn't know Castiel Milton at all, like Cas didn't know him. As if they hadn't spent all their lives together, and had planned to spend the rest of it with each other. He clenched his fists and said, "You know what? Do whatever the hell you want. I don't care,"

and then he was storming out to go to the music store he worked at.

From then on, Cas engrossed himself in work and studying subjects that interested him on the internet in his spare time. Or writing, of course. He looked after Dean, but only out of necessity and not kindness. Dean dealt with it because he had nowhere else to go. He was told his parents were coming for the holidays. Maybe he could ask about bumming off of them, instead. Eventually he started looking for a job, using Castiel's computer most of the time when the weirdo was at work. Seriously, the dude was completely off his rocker! Even though Cas had told him to go ahead and look through his stuff, he didn't. Maybe it was because, deep down, he knew it would involve himself and what they had been to each other, and he wasn't sure he was ready for that. Despite Castiel's cold shoulder treatment, Dean found himself growing to like this crappy apartment and Lawrence, which he remembered from his childhood. He didn't remember much about it, but he knew he'd lived here a long time. The only thing he remembered with absolute clarity was Sam.

One night soon after their apparent argument, Castiel came home late from work with piercings all over his face. He had Snake Bites, his nose was pierced, one ear was pierced, and the left side of his bottom lip was also contaminated with a silver ring. Dean would have gaped if he actually gave a damn about the freak.

"Nice bling." He said instead.

Cas ignored him, setting down a brown bag that had been slung over his shoulder. Dean saw him often take that bag to work. He assumed it was what he used to keep his belongings in. After that, the azure-eyed man sighed and moved about the apartment, getting dinner ready and washing dishes, ignoring Dean's existence completely. Dean shook his head and headed for the front door.

"I'm going for a walk." He announced, but there was no response, and so he simply left apartment 302.

The sound of his pen brushing over the paper was something Castiel was completely use to by now, and he took comfort in it. He knew he was being completely childish about this whole situation, but he couldn't help it. Dean forgot him, and everything they'd shared over the years together. It hurt. It stung. It burned. A tear dripped onto the page of his notebook, smudging the ink. He wiped them away frantically with the sleeve of his, but they just kept coming and so he let them, breaking down in his bedroom and moaning hoarsely in agitation at the pain building in his chest, making it hard to breath through the mass of pure sorrow. He kicked his notebook away, and it clattered to the floor as he moved up the bed and stuffed his face in his pillow, trying so damn hard not to feel. Why the fuck did his life have to be such a mess? From Psychosis to anxiety to depression to his fucked up parents and childhood to losing his one and only dog to loosing the love of his life.

It was official. God hated him, if there even was a God. That was the start of his plummeting despair into the world of no faith. He clang to the crosses around his neck, and he held his black rosary in his hand like a life preserver. He couldn't believe he was actually about to do this again, but stupidly, he saw no other option. Only once before had he tried something like this, and he swore to those around him that he wouldn't try it again. But Dean was gone, and Dean was his better half, so what was the point of living if your better half was gone?

He grabbed his jar of sleeping pills.

"Now I lay me down to sleep," he whispered, the tears stopping as new hope arose in him that he might not have to face this horrible world another day. "I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I shall die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take."

Just before he swallowed a single pill, his cellphone buzzed in his pocket. He sighed. Once he removed the phone from his jeans he checked the caller ID. Gabriel. What the fuck? They hadn't talked in years since the car crash.

The new restaurant that opened in town had a sheek interior, mostly of whites and grays, but somehow it was appealing and not in the least bit plain. When azure eyes landed on Gabriel and Anna sitting together at a metallic table toward the back of the restaurant, Castiel sucked in a deep breath. He couldn't believe his siblings had managed to come to Lawrence, in unison nonetheless. Gabriel had gone off to collage in Main to become a psychologist, (inspired by his Psychotic brother) and Anna had gone to collage in Scotland to become a Russian translator, and Cas was just stuck here in his hometown, tethered to Dean by their profound bond. He hadn't been able to leave or do much with his life after what happened five years ago. He took a seat across from Anna and next to Gabe, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"I already ordered for us. Hope you don't mind having piglet!"

Cas shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"It's good to see you. Both of you."

"Eh, skip it." Replied Gabe with a wave of his hand.

Cas smiled slightly and looked to Anna, who was smiling right back.

"Our little Cassie's smiling!" She ventured.

Blue eyes rolled, and when dinner came Castiel was shocked and disgusting. The word 'piglet' hadn't really registered until now. It was indeed a piglet, and it was cooked on a line (according to the menu) over a fire, and they served it full bodied, only excluding the head. Cas claimed it was downright sadistic, Anna said it was hilarious but sad, and Gabriel said it was tasty. After a bite (Anna wasn't brave enough) Castiel worked the thick meat between his teeth and when he was finished he smiled.

"Okay, I admit it. It's delicious."

Gabriel let out a hearty laugh. "I knew you'd like it, my unique brother!"

Cas also chuckled, though it was quiet and reserved. Anna broke out into a huge grin for the tenth time that evening.

"I love it when you laugh, bro." She whispered fondly.

Castiel felt a warm tingle run through his body at those words. Before graduation, Castiel had been getting to the point where he could laugh, at least around Dean sometimes. But these days it was once again a fantasy, so it would make since that he would charm someone when he finally made those frown lines disappear.

"Yeah... me, too."

Castiel invited his two siblings back to his crappy studio apartment thing. Dean was there, but Cas ignored it when the older man looked to him questioningly.

"So, this is my home." Castiel announced as he shut the front door behind he three of them.

Dean huffed in agitation as he got a beer from Castiel's fridge. "Fine, don't tell me." He snapped. Why the fuck was he still living with this maniac? Okay, he needed a fucking job so that he could get the hell out of dodge. The red haired girl's eyes lit up at the site of Dean, and he felt himself get uncomfortable.

"Dean!" She yelped, before she was barreling into him in the kitchen and wrapping her arms around his neck. "You're awake! No one told me!"

"I wanted it to be a surprise." Explained Castiel, who was standing back with Gabriel, watching the dramatic scene.

"I take it we know each other." Chuckled Dean, hoping he did know her, cause damn. When she pulled back and stepped away, she smiled and replied, "Well, sort of. But I'm glad you're awake because it destroyed Cas to be five full years without you."

There was a silence. It was a deep, meaningful silence in which Dean looked so scared that Cas just wanted to run up to him, grab that sweet face he knew so well in between his hands and kiss the fear away until it could never come back. Instead, Gabriel broke the heavy silence when he cleared his throat.

"Uh... I guess no one told you, huh?" He said, giving Cas a dirty look of disapproval.

Dean shook his head, green eyes meeting blue, and this time, Castiel Milton didn't look away and avoid him. He met him straight on.

"I'm so sorry, Dean." He heard himself whisper.

And then Dean was moving past him and going to Castiel's room, slamming the door and locking it. Looks like Cas was taking the couch tonight.

Dean went through everything in this stranger's bedroom, starting with those boxes the freak kept packed away in his closet. He put them all out on Castiel's bed. The fact that none of them were marked made it tremendously difficult, but he was determined to know who this guy was... who he himself was. Obviously they knew each other rather personally, so there had to be some trace of their past together in here somewhere. Maybe that's why Castiel didn't want Dean going through his boxes. But why wouldn't he tell Dean whether they were close or not? What motivation was behind his keeping it a secret? The first box Dean opened was a semi small one which contained nothing but the psychopath's favorite books, like Stephen King's "IT," and a few others by Dan Simmons and Dean Koontz. Boring. The next he looked through had a bunch of artwork kept in a folder with the word, "Apt" across it, the writing on the front of the folder being either Greek or Russian, but Dean didn't care enough to find out which. He flipped open the folder and crawled onto the large bed and sat cross-legged Indian style, folder in lap. The first picture was of a house sketched in such amazing detail. The house almost rang a bell, and the fact that he couldn't remember it drove him crazy. The next picture was some boring but well drawn plant or flower of some sort.

There was a thick bundle here, so Dean began to rummage through rather quickly, and when something caught his eye he stopped. There was a pretty terribly done person, and all around him were colorful flowers and rays of sunshine and green, green grass, but he was just in plane pencil. When Dean turned the sheet of paper over, he saw words on neat capital letters saying, "IT'S NOT EASY BEING BLACK AND WHITE." He didn't know why, but this picture filled him with such sorrow. Who was Castiel? He figured he'd missed out on such a unique person, though as far as he was concerned he never would get a chance to know him again, because he had no desire to. The next picture was of a black broken heart that was oozing blood. He winced and moved on, and the rest were pretty much sketches of various people with their arms falling off and blood everywhere, and most of them were crying the stuff. The last one was of a person sitting, hugging their knees to their chest, and a bunch of shadowy figures were reaching for the person, hands clawing and grasping for anything they could find. It scared Dean, and he didn't know why. He moved on to the next box, and this one had various journals in it. He looked through them, only stopping when he came across one with the words, "What it's like to be me" on it. It was written in pen and decorated with cursive scrawl, and when he opened it the first words written were, "To Dean, the love of my life."

He froze. What? Dean wasn't gay the last time he checked. Then again, he had no memory of half his life, so whatever. As his moss green eyes scanned over the words for about five minutes straight, he felt a surge of anger rush through him. What the fuck? One more moment of staring, and he was done. He put the journal back in its' box without reading the rest of its' contents and left all the things out on Castiel's bed, then he was off.

The first thing Dean Winchester did was go find a hot waitress, pick her up and stay over at her house. When he woke up the next morning, he was very sore, as the two had fucked tons last night. Gay my ass. thought Dean. It was a one night stand, so he got his clothes and left the woman's house. Needing to clear his head, he didn't go straight back to Castiel's. Instead, he went to the cafe he knew the dude worked at and applied for a job there. Desperate times, desperate measures. Castiel workplace was pretty nice if he was being honest with himself. He would ask Cas to put in a recommendation for him, but the freak probably never would. After that, Dean just continued to walk, thinking about that hot ass waitress he'd screwed. He didn't even get her name, or if he did he didn't remember. He was aware of how irresponsible and rash his decision to get laid had been. Then again, he didn't even remember Castiel, so what was the point in respecting him? Plus, to be fair, that waitress had been damn fine. Even a faggot like Castiel would want to fuck her.

It seemed to Castiel Milton that the women in his life were always there for him. He was currently at Cassie's apartment, both sprawled out on the sofa watching reruns of Law & Order. There was a box of chocolates between them, because Cassie believed in comfort food just as much as she believed in God.

"You know," began the dark-skinned woman, her eyes never leaving the TV. "My offer's still out there."

Knowing exactly what she was referring to, Cas played dumb anyway.

"What offer?"

Her attention still elsewhere, she responded. "You can still bunk with me. Dean could have your apartment all to himself."

Cas rolled his tongue around in his mouth, considering this. "He doesn't have a job, so he wouldn't be able to pay rent."

She shrugged, absently reaching into the large box and retrieving a caramel coconut truffle.

"Yeah, well, as soon as he gets a job, then."

Cas looked at the side of her face. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he refrained. Instead he settled for a simple 'thank you.'

"And anytime I wanna bring over a girlfriend, and you wanna come to your senses and bring over a boyfriend, we'll just leave a sock on the door, yeah?"

He could have hugged her right now. "You're a great friend, Cassie."

Now she turned to him, a bright smile on her face. Cas realized hen that perhaps now she was his best friend. The realization almost brought him to tears. Had it really come to this? Five years without Dean had been hell, but this was worse. Dean was awake now, only he didn't give a shit about Cas. Feeling his cheeks flush with indignant rage, Castiel thought that maybe, just maybe he should bring some boyfriend to Cassie's. Yeah. Dean didn't give a shit about him, so why should he give a shit about Dean? But it wasn't that easy. Dean had more than left his mark on Cas. They had branded each other in a way, so Dean would come around. Dean had to come around, because Dean was Castiel's air, and he needed air to breath; to survive. If they truly had a profound bond, then Dean would remember, and Castiel would stick around and have faith in him, the way Dean always did in Cas.

Dean stays out pretty much all day, and when darkness falls he goes to a bar, and he ends up meeting two very lovely women who've known each other for years, and they wrre apparently friends with benefits. To Dean's utter pleasure, they invited him back to their place. At first they wanted to go to Dean's, but he told them he had a roommate and that he had a stick up his ass.

"Oh. Well, next time, let's invite him, too." One had said.

Dean considered this for a moment, and then he actually physically shook his head. What was he thinking? The girls' names were Adrian and Becca. Becca was a brunette with bright green eyes and a perpetual frown, and Adrian had long, thick black hair and pale skin, and she had the most amazing eyes. They pinned you so much in one simple glance, and Dean realized with a start that he was reminded of Castiel. But Adrian's eyes were brown, not blue, and for some reason this disappointed Dean. The girls had a large apartment, and Dean found that he rather liked it. Adrian often let Becca top, but only because Becca apparently liked to make Adrian come. They set up in their bedroom, Dean in a chair in the corner and the two girls on the bed together. For some reason, Dean hated himself in these moments. Whatever he used to be, he sure as hell hoped it wasn't this. Adrian slowly lifted Becca's saggy T-shirt up over her head, and then she began to press open mouthed kisses along her bare neck and chest. Dean sighed. For some reason, he really didn't want to be here. He wasn't even getting that turned on. Becca then grabbed Adrian's long hair roughly and pressed her lips against her own. there was obviously tongue, if the wet noises were any indication. Then clothes were being tossed aside relentlessly until both girls were bare naked. Becca topped, three fingers sliding in and out non-stop, Adrian a withering mess beneath her.

Both were brought to multiple orgasm, whereas Dean barely came, and he only made it through by imagining himself fucking that waitress from last night. He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd read in that journal. To Dean, the love of my life.

When Dean comes home the next afternoon, Castiel is making some tea. How gay. Is all the older of the two can think, but he refrains from saying it. Actually, he feels a little better knowing how he spent today and the days before with beautiful women, so he bellows, "Hello, Castiel! Nice day, huh?"

Cas ignores him, putting ample amounts if sugar in his hot beverage at the sofa in the living area. Dean sits down beside him.

"Wacha' doin'?" He wonders lightly.

"Drinking Earl Grey, thank you for asking."

The younger's tone is clipped and bitter, and Dean wonders just how he'd been so close to this asshole. He pats his own knee and sighs.

"Well, I've been looking for a job lately. I guess they'll contact me if I get it."

Castiel nods, though he doesn't look up from stirring his tea on the coffee table. After a beat, Dean nearly whispers, "I'm sorry."

Now Cas looks up, blue eyes clouded with doubt and... something else. "For what?" His voice is just as low as Dean's, maybe even lower.

"For... acting the way I did. I kinda always knew we were closer than you let on. I just..." He trailed off, and the other man saved him from saying anymore.

"It's okay."

And that was it.

The next couple of weeks were easier for both of them. Dean occasionally brought up that journal entitled "What it's like to be me," but Cas would never elaborate. To Dean, the love of my life remained a mystery, one Dean did not care to unravel. At least there wasn't some tight tension in the air that made him want to take a gun and put it in his mouth and pull the God damned trigger. He still didn't get Castiel. He taught music, he worked at a cafe, he wore the stupidest clothes, and he had piercings (and some tattoos) pretty much everywhere. He was only twenty-one, but he had a timeless aura about him that screamed, "Ancient knowledge!" To be honest, Dean kinda liked the guy. But he was hard to talk to, always far off and distracted. There was something... not right about him, and Dean knew that he would have found out exactly what if he'd read that journal. Maybe someday, but for now he was just learning how to live with the guy.


	5. Stage Three: Anything

Well tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?

Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day, then head back toward the Milky way?

Tell me, did Venus blow your mind?

Was it everything you wanted to find?

And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?

-Drops of Jupiter by Train

Bbulgarian stood over Castiel Milton's bed as the ten year old attempted to sleep. The shadowy creature then crawled stealthily on top of the boy, and blue eyes met red.

"I hate you." Whispered Castiel, and then the tears came.

Bbulgarian growled indignantly, a loud noise that only the boy could hear.

"I hate you." He repeated, louder this time. Then, "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

Bbulgarian stuck his fourteen inch claws into the ten year old, and Cas yelped in surprise. The sensation wasn't like the rest of the physical sensations of the world, but rather an energy, one that was nonetheless uncomfortable and unwelcome. The child drew in a sharp breath, and then released it slowly.

"It's not going to change anything." He insisted, staring into the creature's glowing red orbs. "I will always hate you, you stupid monster!"

The claws of Bbulgarian's right hand dug deep into the mattress underneath Castiel's stomach, going through the boy in the process. And then the creature retracted his right hand and repeated the process with his left, and so on. Cas bit his lower lip and tried not to cry, but it was difficult.

_

Dean Winchester leaned over the table in the cafeteria at his best friend. "Cas, there's something bothering you. I know there is."

Castiel looked away and hugged himself in his over-sized green sweater. He practically whimpered. "There's nothing wrong."

Dean rolled his moss green eyes. "Cas, buddy... it's me. You can tell me anything."

And then the other boy was looking up, his azure eyes begging green ones to understand.

"Cas?"

"Dean... it's Bbulgarian."

The eleven year old sighed at his funny friend. "Look, Cas, you know he's not real. What's the problem?"

"He won't leave me alone, that's the problem!"

Dean recoiled at the sudden anger coming from Cas.

"I can't sleep! I can't eat because he sticks his claws in my food! I can't take a bath because he takes a bath with me! I can't-"

"Okay." Dean cut off the younger boy, his small jaw taught with frustration. "Okay." He repeated, calmer now.

"Why don;t you ask your parents if you can come sleep over at my house for a bit?"

Castiel nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Dean."

Now the older of the two grinned from ear to ear. "Hey. What are friends for, right?"

_

While Mary Winchester drove the two boys back to Dean's house, Cas hung onto his friends sleeve for dear life. Bbulgarian could appear at any moment, and he would drive Castiel nuts as he always did.

"So who's bothering you again?" Wondered Mary. It was natural for children to have imaginary friends, right?

"Bbulgarian, with two B's."

Mary nodded, a wee bit confused at the name. "Why two B's?" She asked as nicely as she could muster, glancing in the rear view mirror of the Impala every so often at the two children in the backseat.

"I don't know. He specifically said two B's."

The woman nodded. Odd. "Okay, so... Dean tells me your imaginary friends have been bothering you?"

"Yeah. Bbulgarian especially. I don't mind Pragmatic so much."

"Pragmatic?"

"Yeah. He's my red frog. I mean, he can be annoying, but not like Bbulgarian."

Mary nodded again. Okay.

"Do you know what that word means, Cas?"

Castiel shook his head. "No."

"Were you the least bit aware that that even was a word when he told you his name?"

Another shake of the head and a "No", and Mary Winchester was utterly baffled.

"I just call him Prag. He's been around for a long time. Ask Dean."

"Dean?" Said Mary, looking at her son in the backseat.

"Yeah. He and I use to play with Prag." Confirmed the eleven year old.

"Where?"

"Mostly in the fields outside of Naomi's house."

The blonde sighed. "Well, I'm going to tell you what that word means, okay?"

"Okay." Both children squeaked in unison.

"Pragmatic means down-to-Earth. Practical."

There was a silence. Then, "But Prag isn't practical at all. He's really quite weird."

"Well, then," said Mary, really not sure what to make of this. "He's special." She declared.

_

An array of colorful frogs danced across the world in front of Castiel's eyes. Some hopped onto his lap and spoke among themselves, and some jumped atop the members of Dean's family, one green frog crawling into Sam's ear. One who wasn't use to this might think it strange indeed, but Castiel Milton was use to this, and so he was not bothered in the least. In fact, he rather liked all these strange frogs. They did things that made him laugh, despite the fact that some did things that made him yell. Not all of them were nice, but none were bad exactly. Dean stood in front of Cas, and he seemed to be saying something, but hundreds of frogs were speaking at once, and Castiel was at a loss.

"Everybody please settle down." He told the frogs as they continued to dance through the air. One landed on the boy's shoulder and laughed loudly.

"But we're having so much fun!" The yellow reptile declared.

"I know, I know. But my friend is trying to talk to me."

Through the mass of frogs jumping about, Castiel could make out Dean's expression. His jaw had dropped and his hands were on his hips, and then his mouth was moving frantically, probably saying something about how weird Cas was. Of course he only ever meant that affectionately, whereas other kids always meant it literally.

"I don't care about your damn friend!" Said a particularly large frog standing in the middle of Dean's living room. Cas gasped.

"That's a bad word! Don't say that word!"

"What are you gonna do about it?" The plain old green frog had a dark, booming voice, but the ten year old was not scared. By now Dean had left, but Castiel wasn't sure when that happened. He felt a sudden rush of sadness. He was so lost in his own world that he couldn't focus on the actual one. Or the people in it. He fought back tears as he suddenly shouted, "Go away! All of you!"

His voice was high pitched and turned out to be more of a shriek, as Dean came running back in. When he saw the distressed look on his younger friend's face, he called for Mary to come quickly. Before Cas knew it, soft hands were gripping his shoulders, and a worried Mary Winchester was fussing over him. Out of the corner of his blue eyes, a dark silhouette slithered across the wall. He started weeping hysterically. His mind was going on overdrive, and all the frogs were screaming at the shadowy intruder.

"Help us, Castiel!" They called. "Help us!"


	6. Stage Four: A Simple Friendship

WARNING: Angsty as hell

Chapter Text

I will be silent

As I wait for you

And my heart will be quiet

As I wait for you

-I will be silent by Over the ocean

Dean's first day of work is nothing short of hilarious. The look on Castiel's face when he asks for a ride to work Monday morning is priceless. One good thing about having a roommate with a stick up his ass is that you get to mess around with him all you want, and it never gets old. Their relationship now could probably fall into the category of acquaintances/roommates. Things are a lot easier, per se. When having to take orders, Dean got a little upset, but luckily Cas was there to save his ass and turn on a polite facade for the customers. Everything seemed to be going pretty good, that is until a certain customer entered Heaven. As soon as Dean saw her his jaw dropped. Long locks of hair, perfectly bowed lips, an amazing body. It was the waitress from the other night, her honey blonde hair glistening in the morning sunlight. Maybe it was the fact that Dean wanted her all to himself, but for some reason, he suspected it was not that. It was the fact that he and Cas apparently had a thing, and Dean did not want to start any trouble. When the woman leaned her breasts against the counter and smirked at Dean, he gulped and looked around. Castiel wasn't here right now. He was probably in the back getting more baking chocolate or some shit.

"Uh... hi." Said Dean. He wondered if maybe he should just pretend not to remember their little fling. After all, once he'd picked her up from the restaurant she worked at, the two had gone out drinking, so maybe he could fake ignorance.

"Hey." She answered him. It was laced with lust, and it sent an involuntary shiver down Dean's spine. He quickly moved around the counter And stood beside her, grabbing the woman's arm and dragging her out front. Once the sliding doors of Heaven closed behind the two, Dean whispered furiously, "What the hell?"

Yeah, so much for pretending.

"Hello, handsome. I couldn't help but notice that you and Cas are still uh... a thing."

"Huh?"

"Well I couldn't help but notice that you and Mr. Fuckable in there share an apartment."

Dean's jaw dropped for the second time that morning. He stepped towards her threateningly.

"How long have you been following us?"

"Awhile. I never forgot you, Dean. But I gotta ask, why did you do it?"

"Do what?" He practically hissed.

"Cheat on your boy toy."

Dean grit his teeth. "Look, lady, I don't even remember you, okay? A lot of shit happened. If you never forgot me, then that's your problem, but I don't know you other than from the other night, and I didn't fucking cheat on my 'boy toy'. Whatever we used to be, we aren't anymore. Got it?"

He couldn't believe he'd ever been inside this creep.

"Dean... It's me, Lydia."

Dean shrugged. "Sorry, don't know you."

"What happened?"

"Coma." Came the curt reply, and then he was marching back into Heaven, and the honey blonde didn't dare follow.

Dean bit his lower lip, trying hard to concentrate on what Cas was showing him about cooking, but it was too damn hard. The younger man had just gotten back from Alphie's Music, and both were up for a good (however late) meal. Dean wasn't one for listening when someone was attempting to teach him.

"Now you stir that while I get the garlic."

Castiel's low voice dragged Dean out of his thoughts, and he nodded, now alert as he took the wooden spoon from Cas and started to stir whatever the fuck they were having for dinner.

"Dean..."

"Hmm?"

The two were watching television on Castiel's couch after they'd eaten, drinking beers and just generally chilling.

"Are we..."

Dean swallowed. Please don't please don't please don't. On the TV, Benjamin Button was under the table with Daisy, the low candlelight dancing between them.

"Are we friends?"

Dean looked at him for a long moment, shoving down his memories of that sentence in that damn journal. If Cas was anybody else, then yes, they might as well be considered friends. But... if it was true that they were once something more, then that created some sort of boundary in Dean's mind. It wasn't fair to Cas, of course. All he was asking for was a simple friendship. Was Dean really such a hardass that he couldn't grant a troubled and devastated man one simple request? No. Dean Winchester was a good person, he'd just been in a fucking coma for the last five years and was a wee bit out of the loop. So he sighed and said, "Yeah, Cas, we're friends."

He tried not to find it at least a little endearing the way Castiel's face lit up like he was a child discovering a stake knife, but it was difficult. He smiled when Cas did, and from then on things were... better. A lot better. Easier. They were friends, so it was okay to laugh together (not that Cas laughed much) and hangout after a day's work. It was okay to drink beer together and watch the game, not that Castiel even understood the rules of football. It was peachy for Castiel to teach Dean a bit about the piano, or any other instruments he played. It was fine, because they were friends.

"I'm so sorry, Cas."

Castiel shrugged, though his brother could not see it on the other line of his cellphone. It was noon, and Cas was taking his lunch break at Heaven outback with Cassie, the two splitting a large bowl of Chef's Salad.

"Life goes on, Gabe."

"Yeah, but Dean was your life. He was your whole damn life. Are you sure you're okay with him just being your friend?"

Cas let out a tired sigh.

"It's better than nothing."

There was silince on the other end for quite a time, until Gabiriel spoke up. "You know what, Cassie? We're gonna go out next time I visit, okay? We're gonna go out to a fucking gay bar if we have to, and I'm gonna get you laid, because that's what you need. If you and Dean are not together again by the time I visit, then that's what we're gonna do. Got it?"

"Gabe-"

"No. I'm not taking anymore of this moppy depressing shit, alright? You can't refuse. End of story."

Castiel nodded. "Alright. You got yourself a deal. If Dean and I are not together by your next visit, then you can take me out to a gay bar or whatever."

Cas could imagine Gabriel smirking on the other end.

"Good. See you then, Cas."

A familiar feeling crept into Castiel Milton's being as he watched his once best friend and lover talk to this woman. This woman who he recognized instantly when she came knocking on their door Saturday morning. Lydia. Fucking Lydia. The druggie who he use to confide in when he was so Psychotic he didn't know up from down. He froze in the doorway while Lydia and Dean spoke right outside. Lydia kept glancing over at Cas, clearly triumphant. But what had she accomplished? Making Castiel miserable? What did she have against him? What had he done to upset her? If anyone should be on this woman's bad side, it was Dean. Yet she seemed rather fond of Dean. What the hell was going on here? Dean didn't tell him that he'd apperently encountered Lydia the other day. Why not? He forced himself out of his dreaful reverie and marched up to Lydia, moving past Dean on the way, their shoulders brushing lightly.

"Tell me why you're here, Lydia." He grit out, sounding darker than intended.

The blonde looked taken aback, as though she hadn't excpected anyone to possibly defy her.

"I'm here to see if Dean was up for any more rounds."

Something shifted. Subtle at first, but then it took over Castiel's entire world in an instant. More rounds? The 'more' part of that statement had Castiel's heart stopping. Dean had gone out and screwed some woman, but not just any woman. It was a woman who Dean had once hated because she was corrupting Castiel, and now he'd fucked her simply because he didn't remember her, and she was hot. The thought of Dean, that sweet green eyed boy who'd once told him that he was his home, that he would stay with him for eternity, being inside of Lydia? Well, it was enough to make him start to tremble, panic rising quickly inside of him. No. This couldn't be happening. Fuck no. Dean belonged to Castiel. They belonged to each other. That was it. No. No. Things were all wrong. No. This wasn't suppose to happen. On January 30th, the day of Dean's graduation, they had plans to grow up together. Become men together. Men who were deeply and undeniably in love. Now this?

"I'm yours, Cas. Forever and always."

And that did it. Before he knew what he was doing, Castiel Milton was running past the two, then across the street and onward. He didn't know where he was going, just that he needed to leave it all behind for awhile. Maybe forever. Yes. Yes, that was it. He had no reason to live now, did he? Without Dean, he was just a Psychotic, Anxious Depressed mess. He was nothing. Dean was his all; his essence. And now he might as well be dead. This was not the same Dean who held him when he was broken beyond repair. This was not the same Dean who told him that he was home. This was not the same Dean who he walked to school with every morining, glancing at Cas from under the trees on either side of the path. This was not Dean. This was some creep in his body, acting like he could yank Cas around by the neck, sending him on wild rollercoasters of emotions.

Nope. It was over. No more Castiel and Dean. Cas was going to end it, and Dean would be free of him, once and for all. Maybe that's what Dean always wanted deep down. Maybe this was a gift that he did not remember Castiel; a chance to start anew. An oppurtunity to live without being tethered to a maniac. With this thought in mind, Castiel stopped when he came to a coven of trees. The musty scent of dirt and pineneedles drifted into his nostrils, and he stepped into the shadow of the branches, walking until he came out the other end and to a lake. He remembered this lake. His mother use to take him here sometimes when he was a kid. He smiled, content for the first time in a long time as he came to a descision.

Water. Lots of water. It was up his nose and in his ears and eyes and... lungs. Yes, that was that tight and annoyingly uncomfortable, constricting feeling in his chest. He was dying. Water from the lake was filling up his lungs, and he had the urge to swim back up to the surface. But he didn't. He didn't because all that waited for him at the top was Dean, and right that instant Castiel Milton hated Dean Winchester. He hated him for taking his life and heart in his hands and then crushing it, despite the fact that it wasn't his fault the car fucking crashed that day five years ago. Soon he began to fade again, and memories played out in his mind so vividly he could actually see them before his azure eyes in the shimmering water.

"Thank you."

"For?"

"For everything."

"Cas... I feel... different around you."

"Cas... I... I know. Just... you're such an enigma, man! I gotta... I gotta know you, but you're so far away, lost in your own world and I..."

"I'm yours, Cas. Forever and always."

When his eyes closed, he realized absently that he was smiling. For the first time in his life, he was happy. He reached out for the visible memories, his fingers running through this phantom image of Dean. I love you. He thought. I always have, and I always will. And those were his last thoughts before he finally drifted off into a peacful place.

TO BE CONTINUED


	7. Stage Five: Get Out

The world is a much better place if you except it for what it is, which is a riptide of chaos and unpredictable random events. At least that's what Dean Winchester believes, and he'll stand by this belief on his death bed. But Castiel had a different view of the world. Everything happens for a reason, whether tragic or otherwise. Your life is pre-planned from the very moment you take your first breath. Maybe Castiel's theory would prove to be right, after all. After the weirdo left once Lydia revealed that she and Dean had slept together, Dean told her off, defensive of his friend. Despite the fact that Dean did not want that kind of relationship with Cas, no one deserved to have that shit thrown in their face. So he went after him, and somehow, someway he knew where to find him. He followed an odd feeling, as though Castiel were metal and himself a magnant. He tried not to think too hard about what the hell that meant, and instead focused on calming himself down when he was lead to a lake on the other side of a forest. Jesus fucking Christ, Cas, you really are something. His body moved without him having to think about it, first his jacket hitting the muddy bank and then his shirt, and he was diving in and searching the murky green water for his friend. He did not find him. He searched for three minutes without a single breath until he finally had to break the surface of the lake and inhale sweet air. "Dammit, you son of a bitch. Where are you?" After catching his breath, Dean ducked back under and searched some more, again to no avail. Panic started to seep into his being. What if Cas had really died? He didn't know the guy all that well, but suicide was just plane wrong. Why did it have to be this way? No. No. I'm going to find you if it's the last God forsaken thing I do. With this thought in mind, Dean searched tirelessly for twenty minutes, until he found what might have been a clue. A white work shirt was torn and clinging to a stick along the crest of the lake, miles away from where Dean began his search. After picking up the shirt he caught sight of blood. That's not good. He then swam further along the embankment, and finally, there was Castiel. _ The doctors said that he was in pretty bad shape, but that he would pull through. Castiel's room was on the third floor of a large hospital in Kansas city, where Dean drove him because it was the only hospital with beds in the emergency room that weren't full. Not to mention, small town hospitals sucked. Sitting beside his bed at three in the morning on a workday, Dean Winchester sighed. The dude was beyond passed out, his body looking like he was in some sort of a coma. It suddenly struck him how damn hard this must have been for Cas. Dean was once... whatever he was to Cas, and Cas had to loose that. He had to loose the love of his life. Tears stung moss green eyes. He'd been such a fool. No one deserved that. No one on God's green Earth deserved such pain. He might as well be dead to Castiel, because he couldn't even remember what they shared. He glanced over at the sleeping man and stifled a sob. Jesus fucking Christ, poor guy. If he would kill himself over Dean, then they had a bit of a problem. Dean didn't think himself worthy of such love... but obviously a certain someone did. Someone who cared that much for Dean deserved some caring in return. _ Four days later "What the hell are you doing?" Castiel's deep gravelly voice was groggy with sleep. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty." Chimed Dean, who was picking at Castiel's breakfast tray in the hospital. "Dean... I... I'm alive?" Dean froze. He swallowed some disgusting unsalted eggs. "Yeah, Cas... you're alive." Light from the open windows of the hospital room poured in, and azure eyes glistened. "H-how...?" "I found you in the lake." "But how did you kno-" Dean held up his hand to silence the other man. "I just knew, alright? And yeah, I kinda saved your life, and yeah that means I'm kinda awesome, but no need to thank me." He joked, trying to lighten the mood. Cause seriously, the way Castiel was looking at him was downright creepy. "Dean, I... I don't know what to say." "Then shut up." They locked gazes. There was no heat in Dean's tone, and Cas caught on to this. Cas caught on because there wasn't a thing the man didn't know about Dean Winchester. So instead of pressing the matter, he simply took the fork from the older man's hands and began to eat his own breakfast. "So when can I get out of this place?" He wondered around a mouthful of eggs, suddenly a lot more cheery. Dean shrugged. "The docs said another twenty-four hours and you'll be good to go." "Why so long?" "They say you scratched yourself up on some rocks and shit, and that they need to make sure you don't develop Pneumonia." There was a tired sigh, and then Dean noticed it. The hand that was holding the plastic fork was shaking like a leaf. "Cas, what's wrong?" He asked quietly. Castiel Milton bit his lower lip and put his utensil down. Tears began to fall down his cheeks. "You, Dean Winchester, have ruined my life." Dean froze. "What?" "You have stolen my heart and thrown it on the ground. You have slept with the enemy. You have forgotten me completely, and now you want to be friends? Suck it, asshat." "What-Cas, dude, c'mon-" Castiel threw his tray in Dean's general direction, but the green-eyed man ducked quick enough to avoid it. "Cas, what the hell-" "Get out!" He practically shrieked. "No." "GET OUT!" Dean rose from the chair and all but stormed the fuck out. _ Castiel was insane. Just a fact. One minute he was thanking Dean for saving his life, and the next he was throwing a damn breakfast tray at him. Dean's head was spinning. He was trying to make up for his mistakes. You gotta start somewhere, right? Yet now he was being rejected, and he was at a total loss. No. No he wasn't. He decided he knew what he had to do. He would not give up on Cas. He would make this work. It was the least he could do. So when Castiel confronted Dean, saying how he was going to move in with a friend and that Dean could have his apartment, Dean's jaw dropped. No, he wasn't going to let this happen. This opportunity to make it up to his friend. He was not going to let that slip through his fingers. When Cas was all packed and ready, heading out the front door, Dean grabbed his arm. "No." "Dean, I don't have time for you bullshit." It was cold. Venomous even. "I care about you." "Like hell you do!" A passing tenant of the apartment building glanced their way from the hall, curious but too polite to pursue her curiosity. Gathering himself, Castiel adjusted the bag over his shoulder and turned away. Quietly he spoke. "Dean... I... we need to talk about this." Dean crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. "Okay then. Let's talk." "I loved you once." Dean's posture immediately went rigid. "Cas, come on-" "You said let's talk, so I'm talking." Came the nonchalant reply. Dean rolled his green eyes. "Yeah, but not about that. Anything but that..." Now the door slammed shut, Castiel back in the apartment advancing on Dean. He grabbed him by his flannel shirt and screamed in his face. "Why not, huh?! Because it would be 'wrong' to be with another man? Because you're a scared little shit!?" The older man's face contorted with anger and he shoved him away. "Fuck you, faggot!" Castiel slapped him. It was so hard and it happened so suddenly that both were shocked into silence. But then Cas stepped closer and put his hand gently over the red mark on Dean's face. "Dean, I-" "Cas... it's okay. I deserved it." They were speaking in hushed tones as though their words were sacred and meant to be kept only between the two of them. Dean stepped forward and slapped Castiel. Cas took it in stride, not missing a beat as he pressed their lips together roughly. Dean began to pull away, but something deep inside of him stayed put. This is right. that something screamed. This is exactly where I should be, doing exactly what I'm doing. And then without thinking Dean moved the younger man forward against the door and when a low groan escaped Castiel's throat, Dean felt himself go rock hard in an instant. No, no. Too much. As Cas put a hand in Dean's hair and tugged, Dean abruptly pulled away. He swallowed, afraid what his voice might sound like if he spoke right away. "Cas..." he began. "Dean." There was an absolute desperateness to his voice that somehow made Dean even harder. If possible. "I need you." Now Cas just sounded pathetic, and Dean grit his teeth and all but started to eat the other man's mouth. He suddenly didn't want to be here at all. He wanted to hide from the world. He wanted to remember what they had shared. There was a sickening feeling in his gut as he reached for the zipper on Castiel's pants. Why was he doing this to himself? Why was he doing this to both of them? This wasn't how he wanted to make it up to Cas. He just wanted to be nice to him, get to know him better and maybe become good friends, but not this. This was sex, and sex with a guy no less. And Dean didn't remember how to have sex with a guy. Jesus, this situation just wouldn't get any better, would it? But he kept on going, reaching into Castiel's shorts and touching his hard cock. He began to fade in and out. One moment they were kissing and Dean was giving Cas a blowjob, the next they were in bed, huddled together and sweaty. Dean could hardly remember any of it. He had the urge to vomit and then kill himself. He had just fucked around with a guy he barely knew because he felt guilty for being such an ass. That was no reason to give someone the wrong message. No reason at all. Feeling Castiel's warm sweaty body against his as the light of the late afternoon soaked them in its buttery warmth through the closed curtains of the bedroom, Dean began to cry, and he didn't stop for a long time. 


End file.
